


That's why we do what we do (The big picture)

by enchantedsleeper



Category: The Strange Case of Starship Iris (Podcast)
Genre: Also lots of Park & McCabe feels because I love them, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Set during episode 10 (The Strange Case of Starship Iris), off-screen character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedsleeper/pseuds/enchantedsleeper
Summary: RJ McCabe is having a good day. Sure, insurgents have infiltrated the labs on New Jupiter and are threatening the safety of the Republic, but Agent Park has unexpectedly returned from Zone Z and is back on the case, and all seems right with the world.Until it isn't, and suddenly RJ has to grapple with the fact that their world has changed more drastically than they realised - and what they're going to do about it.Agent Park has one goal going into the Plan: keep McCabe safe.No matter what else happens on New Jupiter - to him, to theRumorcrew - this is the one thing that he can control.(Two-part fic: scenes from Episode 10 told from first McCabe's, and then Park's point of view. Originally posted to Tumblr)





	1. That's why we do what we do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ficlet the same night that I listened to Starship Iris Episode 10, because I couldn't help but want to know/imagine what passed between McCabe and Park after Park "shot" Krejjh. We're made to think initially that McCabe was in on it, but then it's revealed that they weren't! And yet, McCabe didn't give Park away! So what was going through their mind at that moment? This is my take.
> 
> I originally posted this to Tumblr only and wasn't going to bother cross-posting it to AO3 because it's only short, but then listening to Episode 10 again more recently, I couldn't resist writing Park's side of things (the second ficlet, 'The big picture'). And it occurred to me that I could put them both up here at the same time as a two-parter. So here we go!
> 
> ([Read/reblog on Tumblr](https://iffeelscouldkill.tumblr.com/post/183322492251/thats-why-we-do-what-we-do))

“Good  **shot** , McCabe,” Agent Park says approvingly, and McCabe glows. It’s been a long time since anyone commended them on their sharp-shooting abilities. In fact, it’s been a long time since anyone commended them on anything. McCabe knows how good they are, and has let that simple knowledge drive them forward since graduating from the Academy. But it’s still nice to hear it from someone.  
  
Even though they still have so many questions (and, if they’re honest with themself, a few niggling doubts) about what Agent Park went through, McCabe can’t deny that their spirits have been high since Agent Park reappeared. Everything finally feels like it’s falling back into place.  
  
“We’ll take it from here, Officer,” Park tells the remaining, shaken, guard. She nods and departs.   
  
“So! Krejjh Sh’Eejjhgreb,” Agent McCabe says triumphantly.  
  
“That’s- not how Dwarnian names work, champ,” the downed Dwarnian manages.   
  
McCabe pushes down the momentary prickle of embarrassment at the mistake. The opinion of a captured Dwarnian matters very little.  
  
“Agent McCabe to Major General Frederick,” says McCabe. “We have incapacitated Source D with a bullet to the knee! What is our next course of action?”  
  
“Good work,” says the Major General, clipped, and McCabe is so busy being pleased that they almost miss what she says next. “Kill them.”  
  
“Uhh-” McCabe’s tone is light, mostly due to disbelief. They’re sure that this must be some kind of bluff, a tactic to intimidate the prisoner. They must be missing something. “Ma'am? If we kill a Dwarnian, especially the relative of a high-ranking diplomat…”  
  
“McCabe, your duty is not to ask questions. It’s to follow orders from the ones who know more than you,” the Major General replies witheringly, and just like that, McCabe feels like a kid again, belittled and patronised. Made to feel, just like every time they had to deal with Goodman’s drawling sarcasm and his insubordination, that they didn’t really earn the position that they hold. And that everyone is just playing along until the adults get back into the room. "Are we clear?“

"We’re clear, Ma'am,” Agent Park says smoothly. Agent McCabe watches the scene unfold in front of them with a sense of unreality - feeling removed, as if they’re listening to one of the recordings from the Rumor.   
  
“Krejjh to Br-” The Dwarnian tries to make a comm connection and fails, breaking off to cough uncontrollably. “Brian Jee…” They trail off as Park pulls out his gun and levels it at their head.   
  
“Agent Park?” asks McCabe numbly. This isn’t happening. Park wouldn’t do this - Park is loyal to the Republic, yes, everyone knows that now, but - Park is a good man. A small, subconscious part of them was hoping that Park would take charge and get them out of this situation, talk the Major General out of executing a Dwarnian. 

Instead, Park is taking charge in order to do what McCabe cannot.  
  
“ _Listen._  My time in Zone Z reminded me why I signed up in the first place - why we do this work.” Agent Park has his gun levelled at the Dwarnian, but he is looking McCabe straight in the eyes - urgent, as if he’s trying to communicate something important. “Keep the stakes in mind, and everything becomes simple. Stand back, McCabe.”  
  
McCabe obediently takes several steps back, but can’t look away. They steel themself, the same way they steeled themself to take their first shot with an air rifle at the age of ten years old; the same way they steeled themself to come into work the day after Park was taken away.  
  
Two shots ring out. The Dwarnian makes a choked-off sound, and McCabe blinks. Park doesn’t miss. Unless- the eyepatch is throwing off his depth perception…?  
  
But then the Dwarnian winks, putting a finger to their lips, and McCabe is lost for words. They turn to Park, seeing him with completely new eyes.  
  
“You…”  
  
“ _Humankind_ , McCabe. That’s why we do what we do.”  
  
“Agent Park?” McCabe asks. It feels as though they just took a step off a ledge and are free-falling into the unknown. Nothing is as it should be. Agent Park… is a traitor to the Republic.  
  
(Agent Park… spared the life of a Dwarnian).  
  
“Agent Park to Major General Frederick. It’s done.” Park speaks into his comm link as if nothing is amiss. And McCabe should say something, is duty-bound to  **say something** , but… they can’t.  
  
“Perfect! Find a handcart, and bring the body down to Lab 1008. And don’t get too close - they’re still infected with the strain H nanoswarm.”  
  
“We’re aware, Major General. Roger that.”   
  
McCabe watches as Park retrieves a handcart from a supply closet and begins wheeling it over. Grinning, the Dwarnian hoists themself up onto it.   
  
Now is McCabe’s chance to do something, say something, anything - alert the Major General, alert the other agents, shoot to incapacitate Park. But for the first time in their life, they can’t make themself go for their gun.  
  
Park wheels the handcart around, and looks at McCabe. McCabe tells themself that they will demand answers from Park before they take further action. Maybe there’s a greater plan at work here. Maybe Park isn’t disobeying orders.  
  
“You’d better get out of here, McCabe,” says Park in an undertone. And then he wheels the handcart past. As if he knows that McCabe isn’t a threat. But it doesn’t feel like disdain - it feels like trust.  
  
McCabe stands there and knows that they could shoot him in the back, right here, and doesn’t.  
  
They’ll play along for now, they think, and let the insurgents think that everything is going according to plan. Then, at the opportune moment, they will strike. They always were best at taking stock of a situation from a distance. A sniper to the end.  
  
It doesn’t occur to McCabe that by doing nothing, they might be implicated in this, too.  
  
Or perhaps, deep down, they do know. And they still let Agent Park walk away, pushing the handcart with a Dwarnian insurgent riding along on top of it. Humming.


	2. The big picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is Part 2, Park's POV! I decided to back things up a bit with this instalment and begin with the scene where McCabe and Park located the _Rumor_. It was a lot of fun to dig into Park's perspective and mindset during this whole sequence and then the one after it.
> 
> I have a lot of Feelings about Park and McCabe and their relationship which I loved exploring, and I now can't seem to stop writing about the two of them (I have another fic finished which I'm about to post that involves them quite heavily, and a much longer fic in the works that's RJ-centric). These ficlets have laid the groundwork for my headcanons and characterisation of Park and McCabe in subsequent fics - it will be interesting to see how these match up with canon once Season 2 begins airing!
> 
> ([Read/reblog on Tumblr](https://iffeelscouldkill.tumblr.com/post/184257098216/the-big-picture))

Agent Park has one goal going into the Plan: keep McCabe safe.

Of course he also wants to help the crew of the _Rumor_ , and ideally make it out alive himself (priorities in that order), but large parts of those two things are out of his control. This, though…

He remembers McCabe’s face when Major General Frederick came to take him away; the way they defended him without hesitation to the highest-ranking General they had ever met. So few members of the IGR rank and file, no matter how new or green, would dream of doing something like that. But McCabe is different, and always has been.

He makes sure that McCabe sticks close to him even as Goodman and Clark peel off to patrol the labs. McCabe doesn’t seem to find it unusual, falling back into their old roles of superior and subordinate with something like relief.

McCabe was never a ladder-climber, as much as they tried to pretend that they were. Really, he thinks that all McCabe ever wanted was a partner – someone who would treat them like an equal. That was all Park wanted, too.

“That ship’s empty,” he tells McCabe, as they announce their presence to a battered-looking but innocuous ship in the North-27 docks.

“How can you…?”

Park knows it’s not the _Rumor_ because he’s been specifically told how to recognise it for the purposes of the Plan. But it isn’t hard to devise another explanation.

“Feel the side? It’s cold. Nobody’s flown it in hours.”

“That’s… really smart,” says McCabe, in the delighted tone of someone who has been spending a lot of time around idiots who don’t understand logical or lateral thinking, and has just rediscovered an intellectual equal.

Back in the early days after McCabe had joined his team – after they’d loosened up a little and realised he wasn’t going to report them for being a human being with the occasional flaw – the two of them used to challenge each other with thought experiments and reasoning problems, charting different possible courses for the _Rumor_ , extrapolating potential interception scenarios and theorising how the crew would react to different courses of action.

The Intergalactic Republic does not recruit for intelligence. In fact, they recruit for the exact opposite: an ability to follow orders in the face of logic and common sense (and often, ethics) – something which Park and the others are counting on heavily for the Plan to work. People of McCabe’s talent tend to wind up either becoming disillusioned and corrupt, defecting and getting taken away, or climbing to the top ranks of the organisation.

While he was around, Park had been doing his best to prevent any of those things from happening. It was probably naive of him to think that he could keep it up for very long.

“This one’s warm,” says McCabe with hushed excitement, and Park nods in approval.

“Go ahead.”

_“Attention. Attention! This is Agent McCabe of the IGR--”_

McCabe pauses as the message echoes back to them on a slight delay, playing through the audio device Park is carrying. “What’s that echo?”

“I’m picking up the transmission from the nanoswarm,” Park replies tensely.

“Why is the swarm—” But it doesn’t take McCabe more than a second to put two and two together. “It’s picking up my voice because _it’s in this ship?”_

Park switches on his walkie-talkie. Time to get the next part of the show on the road.

“Park to all agents. Park to all agents. Agent McCabe has located the Rumor. Sending you our location. Major General Frederick, please advise.”

He finishes by hitting the little button on his walkie-talkie that will send out a beacon with their precise location. In reality, he’s pretty sure that IGR-issued walkie-talkies are broadcasting their locations to upper management at all times (why would the Regime pass up a perfectly good opportunity to spy on its employees?), but he has to play the game. That’s what this is all about.

 _“This is Major General Frederick,”_ the Major General’s voice filters back through the walkie-talkie. _“Stand by for Team Two.”_

“Copy that,” Park confirms, and switches the walkie-talkie off.

“Now what?” McCabe asks.

“We stand by,” Park replies, dryly.

“Right,” says McCabe. Then, with the air of someone who has been desperate to bring this up,

“So, did you hear about the latest crackpot conspiracy from the _Rumor_? They said the Major General is developing the nanoswarm so we can use it when she _starts another war with the Dwarnians_. Ridiculous, right?”

“…Of course,” says Park, and even to his own ears he sounds unconvincing. He wishes he could tell them something more meaningful, or better yet, level with them about what’s going on. But Team Two will be here any minute, and he has no reason to believe that the IGR isn’t listening in on their conversation – especially as they stand feet away from an alien nanoswarm that was configured for constant surveillance.

 “Um. How’s… Shelley?” asks McCabe after a beat of awkward silence.

“She’s fine,” says Park, a little too quickly. “Relieved,” he adds, at McCabe’s quizzical look.

Park hasn’t in fact spoken to Shelley since he was released from Zone Z. He’s not really sure what he would say. If everything goes well with the Plan, Park won’t be coming back to New Jupiter for a good, long while. And if it doesn’t, well… letting Shelley know that he was safe and well, that his name had been cleared, right before he was either recaptured or (more likely) killed would just be cruel.

If he survives, then once they’ve made it a safe distance from New Jupiter, he’ll try and get a message to her.

Maybe.

“What happened to your _eye?”_ McCabe asks. Park knew this was coming.

“Zone Z happened,” he replies, flatly.

“But… you didn’t do anything. Did you?”

Park knows that McCabe is grappling with the idea that he could come back to work, act fine, and still profess loyalty to the Regime- to the Republic- after what has been done to him. He also knows that IGR recruits are taught – and that McCabe still believes, however doubtfully – that only traitors and criminals of the very worst kind are sent to Zone Z, and that they deserve every bit of the punishment meted out to them there. To have him walking around, demonstrably innocent, doesn’t sit well with that narrative.

There’s a reason that no-one comes back from Zone Z. But Park insisted. And luckily for him, the IGR is stretched and disorganised enough right now that it couldn’t afford to pass up the prospect of a trained, capable agent who knows the enemy returning to work.

Park told them he had a personal score to settle. It was the truth.

“In the end, I caused the Republic a lot of paperwork,” he tells McCabe, knowing exactly how flimsy and bureaucratic it sounds. “Every dead end is wasted time and energy.”

“But you didn’t _do_ anything,” McCabe repeats.

 _Exactly_ , Park wants to say. _You know that’s wrong. Trust the instincts that are telling you that this is not okay._

“During the war, we used to say sooner or later, we all make sacrifices,” he says instead. “The trick is to keep your focus on the big picture.”

“Oh… of course,” says McCabe uncertainly, as Team Two’s footsteps sound behind them, led by Agent Seiders.

Park watches impassively as Team Two cut their way in through the side of the ship. McCabe watches with narrowed eyes, and Park knows that they’re thinking this is far too easy.

 _“We’re in,”_ Seiders reports. _“Any clue where they’re hiding?”_

“Let’s see…”

Park adjusts the settings on his audio device until he’s picking up the transmission from the cockpit, Brian and Violet’s voices singing softly. “Sounds like the cockpit,” he replies.

In reality, there’s no way he would be able to tell that straight off, but Seiders takes it at face value.

_“Copy that. Passing a storage room on my 9 o’clock, cockpit straight ahead. Think it’s safe to say they don’t see us coming.”_

As the singing continues, McCabe’s eyes narrow even more and they shake their head, agitated. “Something’s wrong.”

“Too easy?” asks Park.

“Too _familiar,”_ McCabe replies.

 _“What?”_ Seiders isn’t following.

“I’ve heard this before,” McCabe insists.

So has Park, but he pretends not to follow their meaning. “We… all have?”

“No, I’ve heard _this_ before. They’re playing a recording!”

Fortunately for the Plan, Seiders’ ego won’t allow him to take a hint from someone else, least of all a lower-ranking Agent. _“McCabe, as the senior agent here, I’m gonna make my own calls.”_

 _“Incoming call from – Brian Jeeter,”_ ELLA’s voice sounds over the audio device.

_“Computer, accept?”_

Brian Jeeter’s voice comes through the speaker. _“Computer, execute Sequence Five. Brian Jeeter out.”_

The recorded singing abruptly cuts off.

“Team Leader Two!” Park says urgently. There should be just enough time for Team Two to get clear of the blast, but they need to move right now.

 _“This is for – Alvy Conners – the entire crew of – the Iris – and – Emily Craddock,”_ says ELLA pleasantly. _“You – can’t – make – a person – disappear.”_

Park has to hand it to the _Rumor_ crew: they have style. The words send a shiver down his spine.

_“Self destruct in ten…”_

_“Should we… retreat?”_ a young junior agent, uncertain but with far more common sense than Seiders, asks.

_“Nine…”_

_“It’s a bluff – they don’t have that capability,”_ says Seiders, far too self-assured. Park almost swears. His arrogance is going to get his entire team killed.

_“Eight…”_

_“Don’t_ risk it – get out of there!” he orders.

_“Seven…”_

“Hang on – they have a still, for moonshine,” says McCabe, because not even the probable threat of an explosion will stop them from reasoning through a situation.

_“Six…”_

“What if they recalibrated it—”

_“Five…”_

“Take your team _out of there!”_ Park shouts more insistently, grabbing McCabe by the arm and pulling them backwards, outside the blast radius.

_“Four…”_

_“Fine, let’s move!”_ Seiders finally says, with just three precious seconds to spare. Footsteps sound, and Park keeps his eyes on the hole in the ship wall, thinking about the time it takes to run from the cockpit to the outer door. Too long. But maybe if they jump clear—

The countdown reaches _one_ , and the footsteps of Team Two stop.

 _“Told you it was a bluff,”_ says Seiders, confidently. It is the last thing he ever says.

_“Goodbye.”_

The _Rumor_ explodes into a fireball of flame, a wave of heat like a wall slamming outwards, causing Park and McCabe to cringe back. Smoke pours from the blackened skeleton of the ship, and Park and McCabe choke and gasp for air.

 _“Holy—”_ McCabe manages.

Park switches on his walkie-talkie, though he’d be surprised if that explosion wasn’t heard across half of the complex. “Agent Park to Major General Frederick: the _Rumor_ just… just self-destructed, taking out all of Team Two.” He doesn’t have to fake the defeated bitterness in his voice.

“We’ve been set up,” the Major General states grimly.

“Major General—” McCabe interjects, coughing. “In order for Jeeter to- set off the sequence, he must’ve had an eyeline to the ship. He’s got to be somewhere nearby.”

Park takes a moment to reflect on how much more difficult executing the Plan would be if the IGR had the common sense to put McCabe in a position of actual leadership.

“Listen, there’s no time to worry about that. That blast of heat means they’ve just set a swarm of rebooted nanoswarm on the loose. We _need_ to secure the lab – _now._ Park, McCabe – go.”

As they move off, McCabe takes one last look at the remains of the _Rumor_ , their expression haunted and shellshocked as the reality of what just happened to Team Two starts to sink in.

 _Goddamn it, Park, you had one fucking job,_ Park thinks, bitterly. He touches them on the arm, gently, and McCabe jumps as they come out of their trance.

“Come on,” he says in a low voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Krejjh getting shot was not part of the Plan.

Well, okay, there were something like forty different versions of the Plan, which meant that technically most things were part of the Plan at some point. But Krejjh getting shot was not in the ideal version of the Plan (the one where things went well).

Neither the _Rumor_ crew’s planning nor Park’s recollection of the lab security had accounted for the sheer number of guards stationed throughout the first floor of Advance Labs. Park thinks that the original plan had been for Arkady to take out any guards she encountered en route to Lab 1032 while Krejjh found a hiding place, but instead, the Dwarnian appears to be acting as a distraction: a loud, flashy, defiant, poetry-reciting distraction.

_“What am I? I am your enemy incarnate! I am the dizzying swoop as gravity surrenders!”_

McCabe motions for Park to be quiet as they steal towards the blind corner that Krejjh is currently careening towards, disabling guards with quick, precise gunshots as they go. Not that it’s really necessary – the Dwarnian is making enough noise to cover any footsteps.

_“I am the sick-hot, blinding fire of ignition! Fear blinks before me, and death knows not my name.”_

Park sees a look of calm focus come over McCabe’s face that he knows is them going into ‘sniper mode’. There’s nothing he can do to prevent this without blowing his cover, and it’s too early. The only good thing is that he knows McCabe won’t shoot to kill – partly because of the treaty, but also because kill shots are not McCabe’s style.

(He knows better than to hope that McCabe might miss, because McCabe never misses).

_“I am more than you can **possibly imagine!** Heck yeah, hahaha- augh!”_

Krejjh’s giddy laughter cuts off abruptly as McCabe catches them squarely on the knee. Ouch. Park is no expert on Dwarnian physiology, but if it’s even passingly similar to a human’s, that had to hurt.

“Good _shot_ , McCabe,” Park says approvingly as the two of them round the corner. The compliment is sincere – it was an excellent shot, perfectly aimed at a moving target in a way that would disable them without being fatal.

“We’ll take it from here, Officer,” he adds, dismissing the remaining, shaken guard. The fewer witnesses they have for what is about to happen, the better.

McCabe stands up a little straighter, and Park thinks that there’s some pride mixed in with the triumph in their smile. “So! Krejjh Sh’Eejjhgreb,” they say, bearing down on Krejjh, who is slumped against the corridor wall.

“That’s- not how Dwarnian names work, champ,” Krejjh replies, strained and in pain. Park reminds himself that this is a very serious situation, and laughing would be totally inappropriate.

“Agent McCabe to Major General Frederick,” McCabe says, activating their walkie-talkie. “We have incapacitated Source D with a bullet to the knee! What is our next course of action?”

“Good work,” replies the Major General – and then she says the one thing that Park has been dreading. “Kill them.”

McCabe falters, the pleased expression on their face giving way to confusion and shock. “Uhh- Ma’am? If we kill a Dwarnian, especially the relative of a high-ranking diplomat…” McCabe’s tone is light, as if they’re expecting – hoping – to be told that this is all a misunderstanding.

“McCabe, your duty is not to ask questions. It’s to follow orders from the ones who know more than you,” Major General replies flatly. Park clenches his jaw, fighting down a surge of irritation and anger just as he’d done every other time a high-ranking member of the Regime spoke condescendingly to himself or his team. Especially his team.

He sees McCabe stiffen, and knows how much this must rankle. McCabe has always been defensive about their age and sensitive to comments about it – or to any implication that they don’t have the experience or the skills to hold the position that they do.

He knows it only makes them more determined to prove everyone wrong, but just for once, Park wishes that McCabe didn’t have to fight for every scrap of recognition; that they didn’t need to be ten times better than everyone else just to get noticed. He wants a way out of the IGR for both of them – not just for himself.

“Are we clear?” asks the Major General, and Park makes his decision.

“We’re clear, Ma’am,” he says.

To their credit, Krejjh immediately starts to play along, attempting to make a call to Brian Jeeter as if they know that this is the last thing they will ever do. Park draws his gun and points it at their head, and their voice trails away.

“Agent Park?” McCabe asks, sounding shocked.

 _“Listen,”_ says Park, keeping his gun levelled at Krejjh but looking McCabe straight in the eyes. He has one shot at trying to communicate to McCabe what’s happening – to try and get them to understand.

If McCabe objects, or otherwise raises the alarm, the whole Plan will be shot to hell. But Park doesn’t think they will.

“My time at Zone Z reminded me why I signed up in the first place – why we do this work,” Park says with deliberate emphasis. “Keep the stakes in mind, and everything becomes simple. Stand back, McCabe.”

McCabe backs away several steps, still staring at Park numbly, as if they can’t quite comprehend what is about to happen.

Park may have recently lost an eye, but he knows his aim is still true. He used to practice shooting with one eye or the other closed, or with both eyes shut, because you never knew what conditions you might encounter in battle.

He’s not a patch on McCabe, but he doesn’t need to be for this.

Park squeezes the trigger twice, and two bullets embed themselves into the wall next to Krejjh’s head. Krejjh makes a choked-off noise and slumps down, then winks at McCabe, putting a finger to their lips.

McCabe is staring at Park like they’ve never seen him before. “You…”

 _“Humankind,_ McCabe,” says Park. It’s his last chance to try and explain. “That’s why we do what we do.”

“Agent Park?” McCabe asks in disbelief. But they haven’t given him away, and to Major General Frederick, listening in on the whole exchange, it will just sound like the disbelief of a naive young Agent who has never witnessed bloodshed before.

Park had faith that they wouldn’t – it’s why he was prepared to gamble everything on this moment. But it still causes a warm feeling to spread through his chest as he activates his walkie-talkie again.

“Agent Park to Major General Frederick. It’s done.”

“Perfect.” Major General Frederick’s satisfaction practically oozes through the speaker. He imagines that she’s congratulating herself on the decision to send Park back to work – such a dedicated agent, such a _loyal_ subject of the Regime. Everything that happened to him in Zone Z has only made him more focused and deadly. “Find a handcart, and bring the body down to Lab 1008. And don’t get too close – they’re still infected with the strain H nanoswarm.”

Park takes grim satisfaction in the fact that he’s directly working to undermine her toxic, fascist regime. He intends to be very deadly indeed.

“We’re aware, Major General. Roger that.”

Park retrieves a handcart from a supply closet halfway along the corridor and wheels it over to Krejjh, who grins as they hoist themself onto it. McCabe stands and watches them, looking extremely conflicted – presumably between their gut instincts and what they know is protocol.

It would be very easy for them to go for their gun right now and shoot him, or Krejjh, or both and claim that they didn’t act sooner because they were waiting to catch him with his guard down. But they don’t.

Park wheels the handcart around and looks at McCabe. He wants to ask them to come with him, but he has no idea how things are going to turn out after this, and McCabe is capable of making their own decisions about what to do. He hopes they’ll decide to lay low out of sight, then devise a plausible alibi – or better yet, use the confusion to escape.

“You’d better get out of here, McCabe,” he says in an undertone, before wheeling the handcart past, Dwarnian passenger and all.

Park wasn’t lying earlier about their saying from the war – about sacrifices and the big picture. It kept him going through the waking nightmare of Zone Z, and it’s kept him going since. But the big picture is only half of what makes it worth the fight.

He hopes that he’ll see McCabe again.


End file.
